Ilistened to angry music, wrote lyrics, and wallowed. Much like I haddone when something didn't go my way as an actual teenager.On Sunday afternoon, I...heard my mother's voice at the door. "Darren, weare worried about you. Please come out."My mother was sneaky. She knew my weakness. I could smell the heavenlyaroma of her freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies. I remember as a kid,licking the beaters clean of all remaining cookie dough. The smell alonelightened my mood, as it brought me back to a. " She tried to shake her head. "You're my slut, and you're going to do whatever I tell you to do. Your body knows, and it's already doing the things I tell it to."She looked down in horror as her body continued to thrust against me, but she didn't stop."Stop," she cried quietly, although her body continued to move with me."Do you really want to stop?" I asked. "I will stop if you ask me again, but it feels to me like you want to cum again. Do you want to cum again?" I'm not your slut," she. More

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